


One Cup of Coffee and a Little Bad Timing

by sunshinewinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Dean, Businessman Castiel, Cliche coffee shop AU fluff hell yeah!, First Kiss, Fluff, I REPEAT THERE IS ART, Illustrated, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's a barista with a massive crush on this one guy who frequents the cafe. His life is something out of a rom-com, he swears to God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Cup of Coffee and a Little Bad Timing

**Author's Note:**

> Art done by the immensely talented Destieltentylerjohnlockian! <3 I LOVE YOU AND YOUR ART IS GLORIOUS

Dean can’t help the way one corner of his mouth hefts up in a half-smile as he catches sight of the man with ethereal blue eyes and messily tousled curls at the crown of his head, like a halo of perpetual sex hair. He pauses midway through scrubbing out the blender underneath the faucet turned to full to watch as the gorgeous man approaches the counter and orders what he does every day: a black coffee with two pumps caramel and an extra shot. His voice sounds unfairly sexy as always, rough and deep, like gravel on satin. It’s completely unfair, and quite a bit dangerous, because Dean is positive the man could read from the dictionary and it would sound like the most intimate of pillow talk. And, yeah, a voice like that just giving his everyday order to one of the baristas can in fact be enough to get Dean distracted to the point where’s he’s burned himself or bumped into someone.

Focus, right, that’s a good idea. Charlie, who took the man’s order, hands Dean back the cup on which she scribbled the name Dean’s memorized since the first day the man stepped foot into the coffee shop. _Castiel_. It sounds like poetry, looks sleek and powerful even scrawled in Charlie’s messy half-cursive in Sharpie on the side of the cup. Dean grabs the cup and gets to work, waiting for the fresh coffee to brew while he finishes washing out the blender. It’s enough to keep his hands busy and his mind mostly away from Castiel, considering he doesn’t want to cut himself on the blades in the blender or burn himself with the coffee. Both of those are things he’s done before because he gets so damn distracted, something Charlie has teased him for to no end. In no time at all, Dean’s putting the lid on Castiel’s drink and digging the Sharpie out of the pocket of the the apron he wears tied around at his waist. This is his favorite part.

Dean taps the end of the marker against his bottom lip as he considers what he’s going to write today. He tries to be discreet glancing over at Castiel, where he’s waiting by the pick-up counter with his hands in the pockets of that trench coat he wears every day. Dean’s spent a fair amount of time wondering what job the man has that requires him to dress in a suit and tie daily. Today he’s wearing a navy blue tie patterned with what look like little black and yellow shapes, presumably bees, though Dean can’t really make them out from where he’s standing. Fuck, he’s blushing, because why the fuck is Castiel wearing a tie with bees on it, that’s too damn adorable, and it’s painfully more adorable when juxtaposed with Castiel’s mysterious, sexy, down-to-business demeanor. _You look bee-utiful today._ Dean prints on the cup, right in the same place that he always does. You’d think he’d be running out of compliments by now, but here he is, making a pun about the bees on Castiel’s tie, something so horrifically cheesy and sappy that Sammy would never let him hear the end of it. Yes, that’s right: Dean Winchester, a man who enjoys cleaning his guns and fixing up his 1967 Chevrolet Impala in his free time, is writing something straight out of a rom-com that he would never watch on a coffee cup for a guy he’s been crushing on since he first started coming to the cafe and every day since.

Every day Castiel comes in to get the same drink at the same time, and Dean always makes sure to write a compliment on his cup, because watching Castiel’s reaction to them is the best part of his day nine times out of ten. The man always blinks, as if absorbing what he’s read, then flushes a light shade of pink and smiles the widest Dean’s ever seen him. Though it’s just displaying a sliver of the top row of his teeth, it never ceases to make Dean grin widely as some distinct brand of warmth spreads from behind his sternum. Dean calls Castiel’s name and sets the coffee next to one already waiting on the pick up counter. Another man who’d been waiting for his beverage approaches the counter and accidentally grabs Castiel’s drink, taking it back to his seat before Castiel even makes his way to the counter. Well shit. Dean’s gotta fix this, so Castiel gets his bee compliment and Dean can see that shy smile again. He heads over to the man seated at a table next to the window, holding out his actual drink. “Hey man, I think you grabbed the wrong cup. I think this one’s yours,” he says, and the man chuckles, taking the offered cup and handing Dean back Castiel’s.

“My bad! My head’s never on straight in the mornings anyways,” he apologizes, and Dean laughs, waving him off as he grabs Castiel’s cup.

“No problem! Happens all the time,” Dean says, then turns to head back to the counter and give Castiel his drink. As soon as he turns around, he slams right into a well-muscled chest, knocking the coffee in his hands and spilling it all over both himself and-- _Castiel_.

Castiel’s shockingly strong arms coil around Dean’s waist, stopping him from tripping backwards and falling on his ass. “Fuck! Shit! Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, oh man,” Dean gasps out, trying to ignore how very aware he is of each line of Castiel’s body pressed against his own.

The coffee he spilled on the both of them burns but not nearly as bad as his cheeks, which he’s sure are flaming red with embarrassment. Castiel’s nice white dress shirt is drenched in dark coffee and fuck, Dean’s fucked up so bad, what the hell did he even do to deserve this kind of luck? Apologies keep spilling off his tongue and he can’t stop them, despite Castiel chuckling and shaking his head in dismissal. That shirt probably cost more than Dean’ll make today, but Castiel doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. He’s still holding Dean against him, only moving his arm to snag the smashed coffee cup from Dean’s frozen hands. He cocks his head to the side and reads the compliment on the bottom, and Dean’s brain is struggling to catch up and process what’s going on, trying to make the jump from _I just slammed into and spilled coffee all over this guy_ to _he’s reading the compliment right here holy shit_.

Castiel smiles, the same breathtaking smile that makes Dean’s stupid heart stutter, and Dean shuts right up. The apologies on his tongue dissipate as he becomes too focused on the way Castiel’s face is lit up, beautiful smile broader than usual. His eyes are on Dean’s and holy mother of fuck, up close, they're practically mesmerizing, the blue so intense and deep that the ocean and sky have nothing on them. Dean’s bad with analogies and he shouldn’t even try with one now but goddamn, Castiel looks like a coffee-drenched angel among men and he’s currently still holding Dean against him. “I’ve never gotten the chance to thank you for all of these compliments,” Castiel smiles wider. Dean’s malfunctioning brain somehow snaps back into focus at the sound of his voice and he scrambles to reply.

“Oh yeah, you’re welcome, it’s nothing, you don’t need to thank me.” Real smooth, Dean. He wants to slap his forehead in exasperation at just how much of a dumbass he sounds like, incoherently rambling because he can’t think straight with Castiel’s eyes on his, with him so close after Dean’s only ever seen him from a distance.

“I do need to thank you, and I fully intend to, now that I’m finally getting the oppertunity,” Castiel rasps, and then his full lips are pressing against Dean’s and his brain short circuits. The touch is warm, Castiel’s lips surprisingly soft, gently fitting with his own. It sends a jolt like electricity through him, something he feels all the way to his fingertips, his entire being reacting to Castiel’s touch. It’s over far too soon, Castiel pulling back and releasing him with his eyes still trained intently on Dean’s.

“That’s one hell of a thank you,” Dean croaks, futilely trying to collect himself.

“A well deserved one, I might add; you’ve been quite creative,” Castiel chuckles. Dean huffs out a laugh.

“Well now I owe you an apology for the coffee. I’ll pay for your shirt to be dry cleaned, and I’ll get you a new drink, and--” 

“Completely unnecessary. If you’d like to repay me, perhaps you could take me on a date?” Dean’s eyes widen and a mix of excitement and joy rushes through him like a wildfire in the summer.

“Hell yeah, I can definitely get behind that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3 Go say hi to my sister and let her know just how beautiful her art is -- her tumblr is brodestieltentylerjohnlockian! Thanks so much guys!! <3


End file.
